


Faces of the Future I

by JoAryn



Series: Faces of the Future [1]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-22
Updated: 2012-10-22
Packaged: 2017-11-16 20:17:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoAryn/pseuds/JoAryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-XF, Dana Scully draws a picture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faces of the Future I

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters contained herein. They are owned by a creative mind with the name Chris Carter. I may possibly have invented Ismael, though the name is acreditted to Herman Melville. Thank you to those creative souls who have gone before, imagining great things and putting them to paper or screen so that we, the public have the great fortune to view them. I am merely a struggling writer with no money, so please do not sue me.

Title: Faces Of The Future  
Author: JoAryn  
Rating: N  
Spoilers:Beyond The Sea, Quagmire  
Summary: Pre-XF, Dana Scully draws a picture.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters contained herein. They are owned by a creative mind with the name Chris Carter. I may possibly have invented Ismael, though the name is acreditted to Herman Melville. Thank you to those creative souls who have gone before, imagining great things and putting them to paper or screen so that we, the public have the great fortune to view them. I am merely a struggling writer with no money, so please do not sue me.

 

FACES OF THE FUTURE  
By JoAryn

Attleboro, MA 1976

The lightening outside created a strobe light effect through the window of the small bedroom. It highlighted the form of a young girl seated in the center of the double size bed. Her face was turned toward the window, cast slightly upwards to watch the crackling streaks above the great oaks surrounding the suburban house. She remained immobile even when the thunder rattled the windows with its proximity.

She did turn, however, when a large black lab leaped up next to her, nestling its head into her chest. Soothingly, she ran her small hands over the dog's ears and down it neck and back. Leaning closer, she whispered quietly, trying in vain to allay the dog's fears. Finally, she gave up and simply hugged the beast, petting it idly.

Ishmael had been afraid of storms as long as Dana had owned him. He had been a stray, and followed her home four years ago. He had been her constant companion through two relocations. Since her father was in the Navy and frequently reassigned, the family moved often, following. Friends were difficult to obtain and maintain being a Navy brat, and the dog was allowed to remain in the household, officially as belonging to all the children. From the first, however, it was obvious that Ishmael was really Dana's. She was the one he always ran to and consistently obeyed.

Ishmael had been named for the narrator of Dana and her father's favorite book, Moby Dick. Dana had taken to calling her father Ahab as a pet name and he in turn, had called her Starbuck. Bill Jr., Dana's older brother, had commented that they should have named it Queequeg, when the dog had gone through a chewing stage. Dana had laughed and shook her head.

Now, as Ishmael settled into his usual place beside his master, Dana turned to watch the storm again. She felt her eyes growing heavy and leaned back against the pillows, intending to rest for just a moment. A few minutes later, she jolted awake, positive that someone had entered the room. Looking around in the darkness, she could see nothing and she was about to settle back when she realized that some one was sitting very still on the edge of the bed. The person appeared to be very light as Dana could not feel the mattress listing that way at all. 

Dana opened her mouth to scream, but paused. She did not feel alarmed at the figure's presence, in fact, she had a sense of safety and protecting. Outside, the clouds parted, revealing the full moon, and a cool, caressing light shone on the figure's face.

It was a man, not as old as her father, but not as young as most of the new recruits, either. He had dark hair, cut a bit longer than the crew cuts military personal sported, and a stray lock hung over his left eye. His eyes were dark, and looked older than the face that contained them, but deep within was a glowing spark of something intangible. He smiled, but it was a sad smile, filled with longing for something far away. Dana opened her mouth again, but not to scream.

"Who are you?" The man just shook his head silently and Dana thought it odd that she did not feel the bed shift with the movement. Then he raised his hand in a gesture of parting and faded away with the moonbeams as the clouds covered the sky once again. Dana shook her head and looked around the room again, but it was empty. She stretched and opened her eyes, yawning. *Wow, what a dream.* she thought as she sat up, noticing that the storm had passed and the moon was shining on the wet leaves of the trees.

Switching on her bedside light, Dana rummaged around her desk to locate a piece of plain paper and a pencil to record the face she'd seen. Twenty minutes later, she was satisfied that she had created the best likeness she could and set the pencil down. Looking at the picture again, she realized that it was indeed a very good likeness, and the best piece of artwork she ever done. She didn't draw much and her pictures were usually the awkward sketches of a child. This picture had smooth, sure lines with careful shading. There was almost a life to the portrait. Quickly, she picked up the pencil again and tried another drawing, but all she could manage was the typical drawings she'd always produced. She sighed, puzzled but not overly disturbed. Quietly, as it was late, she replaced her art materials, and left the picture of the mysterious stranger lying on the desk.

 

"Hey, Dana! Wake up!" Charlie poked his head into her room the next morning. "You're gonna be late for school!" Dana sat up and looked at the clock. It read 7:15. Charlie was right, she would be late. She jumped out of bed and pulled on the first things out of her drawer. Fortunately, they matched. Grabbing up her shoes, she raced out of the room and down to the kitchen. The picture fluttered slighted, forgotten, as she flew past.

"Bye, Mom. See you after school." Maggie Scully smiled as her younger daughter grabbed two apples on her way out the door. *Always such a healthy eater,* she mused; most kids would have grabbed a cookie out of the jar, but not Dana. Dana went out of her rushed way to get apples from the fridge.

"Mommy, what's for lunch today?" Charlie wandered into the kitchen, a smear of toothpaste on his cheek. Charlie didn't have to be at school until eight, unlike his older siblings. With a damp cloth, Maggie wiped his face clean.

"Peanut butter and jelly, crackers and cheese, and a cookie." Charlie pouted, as usual.

"I dun want cheese. I dun like it." He crossed his arms, making himself look like an absurdly small version of his brother.

"How about if you have meat tomorrow? I don't have time to change it today." Charlie nodded happily. He was easy to please.

"Can I go now, Mommy? Robby and Davy want me to play before school." Maggie nodded and the little boy scurried out the door, his Lost In Space lunch box in his hand.

With all the children off to school for the day, Maggie went about her daily routine. Although she knew she should let the kids clean for themselves, she enjoyed the chore and it filled the time. When William Scully was away at sea, she often felt lonely. She eagerly awaited his frequent letters, and never failed to read the appropriate parts to each of the children. In the meantime, she did typical housewife things: cooking and cleaning.

In Bill Jr. and Charlie's room, she made their beds and picked up the laundry. She tidied Bill Jr.'s desk so that it would be ready for him to do homework on went he got home from football practice. She picked up Charlie's tinker toys and put them on his low worktable. The boys were reasonably neat, keeping their belongings where they belonged, until needed. She wished Melissa could be as tidy.

She went into Missy's room, which looked like a hurricane had blown through it as usual. "Oh, Missy." Maggie sighed as she began to clean. Clothes were all over the floor, having failed to be appropriate today. Those articles she knew were clean, she hung up or folded and put away. The others she added to the laundry pile from the boys' room. She scooped up the numerous wads of paper that littered the floor around the wastepaper basket, and, although her curiosity begged her to, she did not look at them. The top of the desk was cluttered with trinkets and knickknacks, never being used for homework. She stood up those that had fallen over. Missy's room (or Missy and Dana's as it had been in the last house) always took the longest.

Maggie left the growing pile of laundry at the top of the steps and headed for Dana's room. Dana usually tidied her room before going to school, and even with today's neglect, it was the quickest. A small pile of dirty clothing lay right inside the door and Maggie added it to the laundry waiting at the top of the steps. She made the bed, which she usually didn't have to do. As she was about to leave, her eye caught the picture laying on the middle of the desk. She picked it up and studied it. It was not the kind of work she would expect from Dana, but then Dana had a way of surprising her mother. Careful not to smudge it, she opened Dana's file drawer and place the picture in an empty folder, leaving the heading blank.

The picture lay undisturbed in the drawer, having been forgotten during that school day and all those following. It went unnoticed through several more transfers and through college and medical school. It was packed into a box with the rest of Dana's childhood files and stored away in the top of a closet when Dana Katherine Scully went to work at the FBI against her parents wishes. It probably would have stayed hidden away in the top of the hall closet forever, if it weren't for the fact that Dana and her partner at the FBI, Fox Mulder, ran out of folders one night while working on paperwork.

 

Annapolis, MD 1998

"I'm finished with these expense claim forms. Where should I put them?" Mulder held up the completed pile.

"In a folder. And make sure you label it. Last time, I barely got them in on time because you didn't label it and put another file in with them." Scully glanced up for the barest moment from her pile.

"There aren't anymore folders. Do you have some?" Scully looked up again, but this time her brow puckered and she didn't return immediately to her work.

"Are you sure? I thought I brought enough . . ."

"Yeah, I looked."

"There's an all night copy shop down the block . . . Wait. My mom gave me a box of files that I kept as a kid, there might be an extra in with them. It's up in the top of the hall closet. On the right, I think." She gestured in the general direction. "You'll have to get it down, I'm not tall enough." Mulder groaned as he stood, stretching muscles that hadn't moved in hours.

He walked over to the closet and swung open the door. "Even your closets are neat, Scully. How do you do that?"

"They only look clean to you because your apartment would make a pig feel at home."

Mulder grunted in response as he looked for the box. "Who lived here before you, Shaq? I can barely reach the shelf. Hey! Hey . . . Umph!"

"Mulder, are you all right in there? You better not be making a mess of my closet." Scully decided to be on the safe side and went to investigate. "Mulder!"

Mulder knelt on the floor gathering up papers which covered the entire floor. "The box spilled on top of me. The bottom was loose." Scully raised her eyes skyward as she knelt to help clean up the mess. "I didn't know you were an artist, Scully."

"What are you talking about?"

"This . . . picture. It's really good." Scully looked up and saw Mulder studying a piece of paper. She crawled behind him and looked over his shoulder.

"Oh, my God . . ." Mulder turned to look at her and Dana Scully found herself staring into the face she'd seen in a dream as a twelve year old child, mirrored on the piece of paper in his hand.

THE END


End file.
